by Poet Sheba

My fingers are possessed by something dark and sinister
Oh god! Help! Somebody quick, call the minister
This possession makes it hard for me to focus on my job
Maybe I need to commit myself and ask for a lob
I could use them for the wrong reason
Take a trip to the Pentagon and commit an act of treason
I would do some serious time
By the time I get out, my soul would be twisted like a lime
Or I could use them for the right reason
Forget about the idea of treason
I want to see my people next season
Choices, Choices, Choices what shall I do
Maybe I should put my fingers in a bucket of glue
But I wonít do that, I have things that need to be said
My stuff in the future soon will be read
Itís not hard to resist temptation
Or an forms in that relation
My fingers arenít possessed by something dark and sinister
They just want the people to read whatís lying in my heart
To show the world you canít tear my spirit apart

Possession by Poet Sheba

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